


The Replacement

by fits_in_frames



Category: Supernatural, The Office (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a month without Jim, she tells everyone she's going to visit her cousin for the weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through "Gay Witch Hunt".

After a month without Jim, she tells everyone she's going to visit her cousin for the weekend. She gets in her car at the end of the day on Friday and just drives until she's outside of the city and there's miles of field between storage shacks and barns. She spots a bar-and-grill-looking place down the road, and pulls into the makeshift parking lot. She sits down at a table and orders her first cheeseburger since she split up with Roy, and a Coke. While she's sipping her soda and waiting for her burger, she hears the omninous growl of a car that's older than she is, and shortly after, two men walk in. One is tall and dark and handsome and generally very cliché; the other, though quite tall himself, seems small in comparison. They aren't talking to each other. The shorter one pounds on the bar and orders two beers ("whatever you've got on tap, boss," he says and clicks his tongue while pointing his hand's imitation of a pistol at the bartender), and she can't take her eyes off of him. The taller one sets down the stack of papers he's carrying in a booth near her table, and, noticing her, smiles. She smiles back. _He's cute,_ she thinks as the waitress puts a plate in front of her. By the time she says thank you and looks up again, he's talking to his companion, who's brought two mugs of beer back with him. The new arrival catches her staring and winks. She feels her ears go red and concentrates on her burger.

She watches them for a few seconds at a time, whenever she can. They have their backs to her, but she can see them shuffle papers--scraps of looseleaf, newspaper clippings--and catches a few glimpses of an old, beat up, leather-bound journal. They aren't talking to each other, except to say, _what about this one?_ in a low mumble, but the other usually only shakes his head in response. When the waitress comes to give her the check, she asks if there's any motels nearby. The matronly-looking woman says there's rooms for rent by the night upstairs. She thanks her and says to leave her check at the bar, she's going to have a drink, and could she also rent a room for the night? _Of course,_ she says, and takes the slip of paper back.

She slides on to a bar stool. The bartender asks her what'll she have, and she says, "Screwdriver." He raises an eyebrow at her, but grabs at the bottle of vodka just the same. She runs her fingers through a short length of her hair before it gets stuck and she pulls it out. She and the two men with the stack of papers are the only non-employees in the place, and she hears them having a whispered argument. She catches a few words-- _Sam_ and _dad_ and _Dean_ and _what the fuck do you know_ \--but she pretends not to, drumming her fingers on the bar, waiting idly for her drink. She hears someone walking behind her, so she turns around. The taller of the two is pacing over to the restroom, leaving the other with his hands still folded on top of the table. He blinks a few times, makes a fist, pounds the table, and rubs his forehead before standing up and walking towards her. She turns around to find a glass filled with orange in front of her. "Thanks," she mutters.

He sits down next to her, and she sees him give her a once-over out of the corner of her eye. Her ring finger feels comfortably naked and she smiles into the edge of her glass as she takes a sip. It's stronger than the ones she makes at home, but it's still good. The man next to her orders another beer, then looks over at her and says, "You come around here often?"

She stops mid-sip and looks at him. He's smiling this ridiculous smile at her and she can't help but give a snort of laughter into her glass.

"What?" he says, sounding surprised, spreading his hands apart.

"Didn't anyone tell you," she says, putting her glass down, "that pick-up lines almost never work?"

He takes off his jacket and throws it onto the stool next to him. "You'd be surprised." He smirks at her and takes a gulp of beer.

Behind them, a toilet flushes and the tall man comes out of bathroom. He spots his companion at the bar and walks over. She goes back to her drink. "Dean, we should get going."

The man named Dean looks at the man she assumes is named Sam, holding out a hand and not-so-subtly jerking his head at her. She smiles to herself.

"Dean. It's getting dark. We need to find a place to stay, because I'm not driving around all night again."

Dean laughs. "Oh, come on, Sammy, that was fun."

"You singing a drunken version of Bad Company at two in the morning is not my idea of fun, Dean. We need to find a place to stay."

She turns to them, and when she starts to speak, all four of their eyebrows lift and they look genuinely surprised. "There's rooms for rent upstairs." She sips at her drink without taking her eyes off Sam.

"And you are...?" Sam asks, wrinkling his nose to indicate a question.

"I'm Pam, and your boyfriend just tried to hit on me," she says, and finally feels the alcohol working its way through her veins.

They snap their heads to look at each other, and Sam says, "Boyfriends--boyfriends, no." Sam looks back at her. "No, we're _brothers_."

"Oh," she says, struggling to regain her sobriety, "oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed--I mean. My fiance and I used to fight about nothing all the time, so I just assumed--oh God, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Dean says. "Wouldn't be the first time."

She giggles at him, and he smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle, but the smile is gone when he turns to Sam. "Go get us a room, all right? And don't let them make any gay jokes."

Sam nods, mouth in a tight, frustrated bow.

"Sorry about that," Dean says once Sam is gone. "We're...going through a rough patch right now."

"Yeah," she says, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "Me too."

They sit in silence for the next few minutes. She drains her Screwdriver just as Sam returns from the other end of the bar with a key. "They only have single-bed rooms. I said that was okay."

"Sam..." Dean says, a little slur creeping into his voice.

"I'll sleep on the floor, don't worry."

"No, no, you sleep on the bed. I'll manage."

"Dean..."

"Sam."

And that decides it. Sam walks off in a huff, clomping his feet unneccessarily loud up the stairs.

"Let me guess," she says, leaning her elbow on the bar, "he's the younger one."

Dean smirks at her again. "Yeah," he says, and she thinks, _Maybe he's the cute one_. He finishes his beer, smacks the mug down triumphantly, and grabs his jacket. "Look, I have to go get a few things from my car, but I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay," she says, smiling dreamily at him. God, she is drunk. There must have been twice the vodka in that drink. Either that or she just wants to be drunk, which is probably true. She wishes Jim were here. She waits for Dean, but she doesn't know why.

He comes back in with a clanking duffle bag that she's 99% sure doesn't have clothes in it. He smiles at her again. "I always carry a cot, you know? Just in case."

She nods and pushes herself up from the bar. At least she can stand up. That's a good sign. He drags the bag upstairs and the bartender hands her a key. She thanks him and heads upstairs, and nearly walks into Dean on the way.

"Whoa there," he says, watching her sway slightly. He grabs her arms and holds her up.

"Do you want to have sex with me?" she asks. She doesn't mean to say it, but it comes out anyway.

Dean just stares at her for a second, searching her face for something she can't quite make out, and then he kisses her. She lets him put his tongue in her mouth, and she grabs at his face and imagines he's Jim. He pulls away, lips red and swollen, glances behind her, and puts an arm around her shoulders, leading her somewhere. "Back door," he explains, and she follows.

He opens the back passenger door to his car--a monstrous, hideous boat of a car, if you ask her, a car that screams _I am overcompensating_ \--and she gets in, no questions asked. He opens the passenger door right next to him and pulls something out of the glove compartment. She thinks she sees a gun, but it could just be a trick of the light. She exhales slowly. He walks around the back of the car, gets in the other passenger door.

Once he's settled, the condom he had between his teeth safely in his pocket, he kisses her again, this time cupping one of her breasts. "God," he breathes when she breaks it, "I feel like I'm seventeen or something." And with that, she straddles his lap, rubs herself on his stomach as she cups his jaw and kisses him again. He leans forward, tipping her backwards so she's lying flat on her back with her legs in his armpits. She's not wearing pantyhose, so he has easy access to her panties under her skirt, and paws at them, pushing them aside, brushing her clit almost by accident, sending tingles shooting down her legs. He unzips his pants, gets up on his knees, pushes them down so that he can get to his dick. It's halfway hard, and she can't stop looking at it. He pulls the condom out of his jacket pocket, then takes the leather thing off and throws it behind him. He rips the package with his teeth and puts the condom on, tosses the wrapper onto the floor of the car. He leans over her and asks, "You sure you want this?"

 _He's very polite_ , she thinks, and nods. And then he grunts and is inside her.

She closes her eyes, and thinks of Jim. Thinks of his hands on her waist. Thinks of the softness of his sweater beneath her fingertips. Thinks the salty-sweet taste on his lips. Thinks of the longing in his voice: _I'm in love with you_. She wants to see him again, she wants to be with him now, more than anything in the world. She imagines...

But then she opens her eyes and, no, she's here, in the back of Dean's car, with one foot on the driver's headrest and the other leg over his shoulder, with his fingers digging into her sides and her skirt practically up to her chin. He thrusts into her again and she can't control herself as she grabs at his collar and kisses him; it is all teeth and lips and stale Michelob. He slides his tongue over hers, and one of his hands drifts between her thighs. Roy never fingered her while he was fucking her, so she gasps and bites her lip and arches her back, and suddenly Jim is the furthest thing from her mind.

He pulls away from her mouth and grunts again, forming half-words--something that could be _god_ and something that sounds like _fuck_. She curls her toes and moans and pushes into his fingers (there are two, as far as she can tell, one resting to the side, lingering warmly, and one rubbing on her clit). She feels his dick getting harder inside her, feels it move in and out, in and out, in a slow, steady rhythm. She grabs at his ear and pulls his face in close to hers and breathes, "Faster." He thrusts into her again, obediently increasing his pace, and she feels the pulse in his neck quicken against her calf. His fingers work faster too, both of them getting in the act now, dipping down occasionally to pick up some lubricant. He fucks her deeply--not like Roy at all. He barely ever fucked her, but when he did, it was in and out and over. She grinds her teeth and forces Roy out of her mind. She feels heat licking her belly.

"Oh," she says.

And then he grunts and she moans and they both come simultaneously. _We couldn't have done that if we tried_ , she thinks as he shudders and collapses, gently, on top of her. She puts one hand on the back of his head, letting the other linger on his hip. His breath is warm and wet on her shoulder. After a minute, he gets up on his knees again, and pulls out of her and takes off his condom. She pants and watches him tie it off. He swings his legs down, and zips himself up. She puts her legs in his lap and pushes her skirt down. He opens the car door and gently lifts her feet before he stands up and gets out, closing the door behind him. She watches him through the foggy window as he walks over to the trash can and drops the used condom into it, looking around to see if there's anyone watching him. Apparently there isn't, so he comes back to the car and opens the door and says, "You okay?"

She half-sits up, propping herself up on her elbows, and nods. Her head hurts and her stomach hurts and her legs hurt, but overall she feels fantastic. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, offers a hand as she half-crawls, half-tumbles out of the car.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder again, leading her back inside the bar/grill/motel. They go in the back door. He walks her up the stairs, asks her what room she's in, takes the key from her skirt pocket and opens the door for her. She walks in, and says thank you, and instead of saying _you're welcome_ , he asks, "You don't happen to have some paper on you, do you?"

"In my purse," she says, a sudden dread in her voice, "which is still at the bar."

He turns and sprints down the stairs, returning with her purse and a giant grin.

"Thanks," she says, and rummages for the pad of paper. Her head feels a bit clearer, and she wonders how long it's been since the Screwdriver.

She rips off a piece of paper and hands it to him. He clicks the pen in his hand and writes something, leaning on the door frame. "This is my phone number," he says. "If anything, you know, weird ever happens to you, I want you to call me, okay?" He finishes writing and looks at her. She's smiling at him.

"Depends on what you mean by 'weird'," she says. "I mean, my job is pretty weird."

Dean laughs. "That's not what I had in mind, but it'll do." He takes her forearms in his, cupping her elbows with his hands, and kisses her, long and slow, sucking on her bottom lip for a moment before pulling away. He backs out of the door frame, and she steps outside to watch him walk down the hall, knock on a door and call for Sam. He sees her and waves at her before the door opens and he steps inside.

She strips to her underwear and gets in the bed. She falls asleep almost instantly, and she dreams of Dean fucking her and Jim fucking her, and the two of them overlap in her subconcious and she doesn't know what to think anymore.

When she wakes up, Dean is gone, along with his car and his little brother Sam. She's surprised she remembers all that, but what bothers her more is the longing feeling in the pit of her stomach and the fact that the name in the back of her throat has changed.


End file.
